


Unusually Lucky People

by vtn



Category: Daft Punk, Ed Banger Records - Fandom, Justice (Band)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Human Daft Punk, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-12
Updated: 2007-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-16 19:22:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/542983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vtn/pseuds/vtn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas goes back to a very changed Paris to arrange the first Daft Punk tour in ten years and grapples with the questions of what is a home and where is his?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unusually Lucky People

**Author's Note:**

> Contains mentions of real-life spouses and kids; also, what might be considered marital infidelity. So if either of those things bother you, probably don't read on.

**Unusually Lucky People** _, or  
how Thomas met Justice for the first time and what transpired there_

It's actually Élodie who starts it all. She listens to a CD while she gets her nails done and chats to Thomas on the phone later, singing the praises of this new band Pedro's working with.

"It almost sounds like something you'd do," she says, "Although a little more…disco, a little more pop, and other times sort of…grandiose. Like going to church." Which fits because the logo on the cover has a big cross right smack in the middle.

"This is…Justice?" Thomas asks. He remembers seeing the demo lying around, and he's been meaning to listen to it, along with the rest of the list of things he's been meaning to do, which is not a short one. His life is still in boxes, and Tara-Jay of course has first pick of what gets unpacked (this generally comprises the entire Disney-Pixar library as well as quite a few other things with brightly-colored, singing animals).

"Yes, Justice. You really should listen to this." So he does, and he's impressed, and then it gets forgotten in favor of looking for preschools and buying a refrigerator and dealing with the fact that the wallpaper in the guest bedroom has just peeled to reveal several previous layers of wallpaper, all stained orange and smelling like something gone horribly wrong.

\---

And then they're swept up in the unrelenting whirlwind of real life again, culminating in Thomas hopping on a plane to Paris and staying right across the street from Busy P's new digs. Élodie is left behind in LA, working on a new movie, but they both figure it's best Tara-Jay comes along with his father since Mommy will rarely be home anyway.

At dinner the first night, Thomas is vaguely aware that Justice are underfoot, but it's really like one of those times when you go to a family reunion and become aware of the sheer number of people who are, in one way or another, related to you. The Justice boys are like your mom's cousin's husband's tiny nephews brought over because "I swear, we looked everywhere for a babysitter but no one could make it" and so they're running under tables biting ankles and spilling drinks. They seem lost in a world only the two of them share, speaking a language no one else understands and almost never responding to anything anyone else says to them.

And of course Thomas is more concerned with Tara-Jay than anything else. If you look at it from his perspective, it's really no fun at all. First of all, there's the plane trip, which was just not fair because he only just had to get on a plane and go to America, and planes are—he just doesn't know why you have to trust them. (They're the biggest and scariest things he's ever seen—at first he wanted to believe they were just funny shaped buildings that could fly, but then the plane started growling at him and then he knew it was alive. It's sort of like dinosaurs—the little ones are manageable but the big ones like Cera's dad in _The Land Before Time_ you just can't mess with. Like planes, you have to trust them even though they don't give you any reason to. )

Then all of a sudden he's back in Paris and the signs are all in French, when he's just gotten used to them being in English. Daddy's friend's house (which is weird in and of itself because Daddies are supposed to have work, not _friends_ —friends are for kids!) is full of loud noises and strange people and suffers from a severe lack of toys.

Understandably, Thomas decides to take a morning out with Guy-Manuel and Busy P so they can breathe some fresh air before holing themselves up and getting back to work. This doesn't do much for Tara-Jay's situation, because all of a sudden Daddy is pointing out this strange building and asking him, "Hasn't Paddington Bear been here? What is this place called?" Tara-Jay just stares blankly, and is even more confused when Daddy affirms it's the Eiffel Tower. That's in a book! This three-dimensional thing looks totally different from anything he recognizes. A brief respite comes when he realizes Daddy's friends love it when he says " _J'adore Paris_!" but then cameras are being shoved in his face and are these people just determined to make him cry or what?

Tara-Jay dozes off in the van on the way back, his thumb in his mouth and his cheeks flushed from the summer heat. In the house he stumbles over to the couch and resumes sleeping, while Thomas flips through a book. Justice are over for lunch and supposedly to discuss plans for their new single, and this is the first time Thomas starts to get a good idea of the sort of people they are. Neither of them talks much except occasionally mumbling something to the other in their mumble-language and neither makes eye contact with anyone except the kitchen table. By nightfall, people are pouring in again and Justice disappears off into the shadows, only emerging when the little one with bad hair sticks a miniature French flag into someone's sandwich.

\---

This isn't how Thomas remembers this place at all. How is it that two years ago everything was relatively quiet and the only new visitors were the occasional exotic plant Busy P would pick up to liven things up? And Nadège, when she does show up (she's never been the type to stay in the house all day), shows up in tight jeans and T-shirts with big colorful designs. (Everyone's decked out in colors, even Busy P; Thomas feels drab in comparison in his jeans and work shirts.)

But he'll learn to love it. There is the possibility of parties—he's been feeling like a responsible adult for too long lately. There's talk of a visit to the renowned club Paris Paris which is something he's sort of always wanted to do. The excitement is something that's been missing in his life. And if he needs an anchor, Guy-Manuel is the same as always, easygoing and easy to get along with.

"Actually, we're not a lot unlike them," Thomas says, speaking of Justice. "I guess we sort of have our own world and our own rules too." Guy-Manuel shrugs, rolling his sleeves up and thumbing through Busy P's list of hotel reservations.

"I'm told we're like their heroes," he says thoughtfully. "Imagine that. Us, someone's heroes. We're supposed to be people's scapegoats."

"We were supposed to defy things with our existence." It sounded a lot better in his head.

"What do you mean, things?"

"Things! Things and stuff." Thomas gestures, impatient. "I was making a very important statement. Look what you've done now."

"Yes. I'm too stupid to understand your deep philosophy. Sorry I even tried." They share grins. "I think it's why they're so quiet, though. Surrounded by people they never thought they'd be like."

"Why don't we have an excuse like that?" Thomas rubs his eyes. In the other room, he can hear Tara-Jay demonstrating his knowledge of simple arithmetic. Life is going on without him. "We spend a lot of time in rooms like this," he says, changing the topic. "And—we're in _Paris_. What are we _doing_?"

"Living our real lives, I guess," says Guy-Manuel. "If you want to do something like this forever, you have to work at it. They'll all find out too someday."

"I guess."

"Tomorrow—like, 'the future' tomorrow, not the day after today—there will be people trying to find out where they buy their underwear."

"That's disgusting." Guy-Manuel throws up his hands.

"Or something, whatever! All I'm saying is if you keep running away from what you're becoming, it doesn't matter. It still catches up with you." He looks down. "It's good for them, though. They aren't getting big heads about it. They're just two unusually lucky people."

"Which," Thomas muses, "Is what we've been all along, really."

\---

It will probably be a story he tells for years: Thomas has a bag on his head when he first meets So-Me. This was Pedro's idea; he said despite Thomas being 'human after all' he should still have his identity protected when he goes out. He's told, though, that it's not the first time:

"The first time I met one of my best friends, she was stark naked except for a loincloth. And the loincloth was bright green." So-Me extends a hand, peeks under the bag. "I never knew what you looked like before."

"I hope you aren't disappointed." Thomas laughs nervously, tugs down on the corners of the bag. He wishes he had his helmet there already. One glance at the sheer number of people at this party (and it's just in someone's living room for Christ's sake) and the bag shifts in purpose from cheeky joke to safety net.

"I expected more gears and beeping parts." So-Me pauses to turn to his right and yell "YOU SHOW HIM!" quite loudly in the general direction of some people playing darts. "If I ever draw you with the helmet off you will look like a robot underneath. But unfinished. All the gears showing and sort of a—think like steampunk, kind of thing."

From underneath the bag, Thomas blinks. "That's…very interesting," he says. "Do you—" He loses his train of thought because at that point, a voice interrupts him by shouting "Hey, So-Me!"

"Hey Gaspard," So-Me says. "Hey Xavier. Could you let go of me for a second?" Laughter. "That's better. How are you? I hear you've become local celebrities! When are we going to see you in Hollywood, huh? New York City?" Whoever Gaspard and Xavier are, they laugh and chide him under their breath. "Oh, have you met Thomas? You must have…"

"With the bag?" one of them says. "Is he deformed?"

"Cut himself shaving?"

"Is he just hideous?" Snickers.

"No, he's simply miles ahead of any of us in the fashion world. Say hi!" Thomas feels someone walking closer to him and lifting up his bag, and then for a split second he's staring into the inquisitive eyes of the guy with the 'fro from Justice. Before he can say a word, though, the Justice boys laugh and run off, presumably to get into more trouble.

"You're just going to take all that abuse?" So-Me teases. "Go after them! Dig into them a bit, they deserve it."

Thomas pulls the bag off his head and pushes his mussed hair back with his hand. "I don't think so," he says, shaking his head. "They're young. Let them have fun. And I'm not going to turn into the one who goes chasing people at parties and yelling at them."

"There are two things wrong with that, Thomas Bangalter."

"Really."

"First of all, you're still young yourself, and second, you obviously don't know what a _real_ party looks like."

Well, this can only mean bad things, because here at this little get-together Thomas is already feeling himself at a loss for words. He's been acting like an asshole, hasn't he? And despite the fact that he's been doing this for years, he still finds the words get caught somewhere between his brain and his lips.

\---

Thomas makes the next day what he figures is going to be the "help me, I'm miserable and lonely" call home. But—and that _would_ happen to him, wouldn't it—Élodie doesn't answer the phone because he's calling her at two PM Paris time and has brilliantly forgotten that two PM in Paris is five AM that morning in LA. She reminds him, though, at five-thirty (so eight-thirty for her, and truth be told she never was a morning person):

"What the hell do you need, Thomas?" and things are off to a horrible start already. "I thought someone had _died_. And I had to be up just two and a half hours later."

"Time zones are confusing! I always forget about them. I'm so sorry, Élodie. I swear I didn't mean to wake you up." The feeling that the world hates him is not improving. "I just wanted to hear your voice." And if that doesn't sound idiotic then what does?

"Look, I love you and I wish I had time to talk to you, but I'm so busy today, everything is insane, _I'm_ going insane—"

"So am I. I thought if we talked—"

"You? Things there are supposed to be going so smoothly for you. What's wrong? Don't tell me something's happened, Thomas. You said you'd just get this business done and come home. You told me two weeks. I hope you meant it." Thomas gets up from the hotel room couch and walks over to the window. Fifteen stories below is the Paris street, jammed with traffic and buzzing with flies and tourists. Not that he's much unlike them now. Everyone else in this hotel speaks English or Spanish or German, all their French coming out of pocket-sized books.

"No, no, everything is fine, I'm just…I'm-I'm lonely," he stammers out. These things are so much easier in person. "I miss you. I miss knowing everyone."

"I miss you too, Thomas. I'm so busy and I even have to go soon. Is Tara-Jay doing all right?"

"He's fine. Bored, I think, but we rented him some videos and Busy P's letting him use the Play Station."

"Well, take care of yourself." It sounds like an ending. Thomas, he says to himself, ask your wife what happened today in her left. She wants to talk about it. Be generous.

He looks down at the street again, down at the city that used to be his home, and all he can manage is, "You too. I love you."

"You too."

\---

Apparently a 'real party' looks like somebody's basement full of blinking traffic lights, with Christmas tree lights strung around the stair railings and along the walls. It is stuffy and crowded, and he walks past three couples kissing just going down the stairs. Some kid shakes his hand and kisses his cheek, but otherwise he's offered relative anonymity. That's the one high point, because otherwise he's thinking of calling on Busy P to bail him out.

It's Busy P who convinced him to come in the first place. Nadège is taking care of Tara-Jay for the night, and Thomas trusts her; he's thinking of maybe getting her something nice on the way back to repay her but he doesn't know whether or not it will be misconstrued (people, he's re-learning, are way too complicated). And Busy P said it would give him a good sense of what's been coming from the 'Headbangers at Ed Banger's' lately, and that if he let himself go he'd have a good time. He sure as hell hopes so.

A scream spreads over the crowd like a wave and hands go into the air. Justice have taken the stage. Of course.

The surprising part is soon enough he finds himself dancing, wondering why he never really paid much attention to this music before. It's really catchy. And hey—this is the future. This is what's going to get people talking. This makes his fingers itch for a sampler. And his feet won't stop moving.

\---

When the music switches over to someone's mix CD coming over the sound system and gets turned up enough so people can talk, Thomas goes up into the kitchen for a glass of water and finds Pedro there, patting Gaspard and Xavier on the back and telling them they've done well.

"Hey, it's my man Thomas!" Busy P shouts, getting up to roughly pat _Thomas_ on the back and then crossing the kitchen and swinging around the doorframe onto the stairs going down. "You three make nice. I'm going to go change the CD."

"Hello," say Gaspard and Xavier at once. Amidst all the "Hey"s and "Whassup"s (the latter of which given in English more often than not) Thomas has been hearing, it sounds formal as anything. They look at each other and grin.

"Hey," Thomas says. When no one introduces himself, he continues, "Good show tonight. I like what you're doing." Silence on all fronts. Thomas is running out of words. "Great dance music."

Downstairs the music goes up and one of the Justice boys, the short one with black hair who looks sort of Asian, smiles and starts nodding his head and tapping one scuffed-up sneaker. Two years gone and already he doesn't know people's favorite songs.

A look of understanding slowly creeps into Afro Guy's eyes. "Daft Punk!" he says.

The other one gives him a playful shove and says quickly, "Gaspard, that's not Daft Punk, you idiot, that's Thomas Bangalter _from_ Daft Punk. There are two of them, you realize." Well, thank God, now he knows which is which.

"Sorry," says Gaspard, shaking his head. "Hello, Thomas Bangalter."

Thomas gives a little wave. Gaspard says something quietly to Xavier and Xavier shakes his head.

" _Do you like Hollywood_?" Xavier says in English, and then starts laughing, covering his mouth with his fist and rocking back and forth. " _Do you like showgirls_?" he continues when he recovers.

"I hate Hollywood," Thomas says, grinning. Finally, something he can talk about. "Everyone is—"

"I don't care about Hollywood!" says Xavier, and he and Gaspard share glances Thomas can't decipher.

"Busy P said to be nice," Gaspard mumbles, narrowing his eyes a bit.

"I'm being funny. I'm funny, right, Thomas Bangalter?" Xavier pushes his hair out of his face, frowning thoughtfully. A moment later, he shakes his head back and forth so it all falls back in his eyes.

"Just Thomas is fine," Thomas offers meekly.

"Okay, Thomas Bangalter," they chorus. "Okay, just Thomas." It's about at that point, give or take a minute or so of silence, that Busy P reappears and Thomas heads back into the basement, dazed and confused.

\---

"Élodie? It's Thomas."

"Hi, Thomas. How are you?" He's about to answer when he feels a pulling at his pant leg.

"Daddy, Daddy I can't find my alligator, where has he gone I think I left him at Mister Pedro's house and I can't find him and he's going to be all alone and Missus Pedro is going to put him in the garbage I just know it! Daddy how can I sleep?" Thomas strokes his son's hair.

"Tara-Jay, please hush, I'm on the phone with your mother."

"But Daddy, my _alligator_!"

"Élodie, I'm sorry."

"No, I understand." He can't tell if that's a smile in her voice or exasperation. "He's my son too you know."

"MOMMY MY ALLIGATOR IS LEFT AT MISTER PEDRO'S HOUSE!" Tara-Jay shrieks, hopping up and down to try and shout directly into the phone. "DADDY WON'T GET HIM!"

"Thomas, you're taking him with you to Pedro's?" Okay, Thomas, she sounds concerned now. Figure this out.

"Of course! That's the whole reason I'm here, and I can't exactly leave him in the hotel room." Élodie sighs.

"No, I guess you can't. I just worry about him, especially when there are all these people there he doesn't know."

"Well, what was I supposed to do?" Now Thomas is getting just a tad bit annoyed. "You said I couldn't leave him with you. All our family is here in France, so we couldn't just drop him off with someone."

"I'm just so stressed. I'm sorry. I'm not thinking. I know you can take care of that boy, just…"

"Just what?"

"Be serious. Be—be adult. You act like a child sometimes and—"

"Now that's not fair, and you know that." Thomas squeezes his eyes shut. He covers the receiver with one hand. "Tara-Jay, have you tried looking under both the beds and in the bathroom? Maybe your alligator is hiding in the shower."

"Okay," says Tara-Jay mournfully, and trudges off with such an air of melancholy that he leaves trails in the carpet.

"I know how to take care of myself and my son," Thomas continues, his face burning. "So excuse me if I can't be all business, all the time." He nudges the toe of one sock into the carpet, making a little hole. "I love you, and I love Tara-Jay, and that's what matters, isn't it?"

"Yes," she says softly. "Maybe I need to grow up and stop worrying."

"Mm," Thomas says. "I'll talk to you later."

"Yeah."

\---

Thomas (Winter; that is to say, the other Thomas) is looking after Tara-Jay tonight (they plan to do some extensive alligator searching) and Thomas is going to another party. He doesn't particularly want to, but at least Guy-Manuel is going this time, and someone else is bringing beer.

So he gets drunk and ends up going to bed with his clothes on, the last thing he hears being Tara-Jay whining that he's still alligator-less, and that's really all he has to say about that.

\---

The next day is more or less the end of the world, from Thomas's perspective. He wakes up with (a hangover and) a resolve to call Élodie. This is how he figures it will go: he'll tell her he loves her, he misses her, and he hopes everything is well, then he'll ask her about the movie she's filming and comfort her when she talks about how stressful it is (since it invariably is). After that pleasant conversation, he'll remind her that he's taking good care of Tara-Jay and that the tour is getting all lined up and that it won't be long before he gets home.

Of course, he's never been good with phone calls, so it turns out like this instead:

"Good morning Élodie, it's Thomas."

"Oh gosh, Thomas, you sound awful. Is everything okay?"

"I sound awful? I just have a bit of a hangover, nothing more."

"You have a hangover? What have you been _doing_ there, Thomas?"

"I went to a party."

"You went to a party and got drunk on a business trip. You're so typical!"

"I'm being responsible, Élodie. Pedro's wife and brother have been taking care of Tara-Jay, everyone here is so nice, and I love to hear all the new talent."

"Paris, Paris, Paris. You're a world away. No, a universe. You're talking to me, but I'm not hearing you."

At this point, Thomas feels a lump in his throat. If he could just put an arm around her shoulders and tell her everything is going to be all right—

"I promise, everything is going to—"

"You're going clubbing with people who…you're old enough to be their father! And you have a hangover. Not to mention leaving our son with total strangers. That boy is going to become a savage. Everything is not all right."

"Élodie, I…" I what? I'm sorry? I wish you were here, because you'd know what to do, and you're exactly right that I'm irresponsible and a bad parent? Fat chance.

"Look—I have half a mind to make you put Tara-Jay on a plane and send him back here, but you and I both know that's not going to happen. Do what you want, Thomas. It's your life." And here Thomas thought it was supposed to be their life. Isn't that what they agreed on at the altar? "You live it your way. See if I care." And with that she hangs up, a gesture that reminds Thomas of the Earth hurtling into the Sun.

\---

He decides there are two things he could do at this point: he could spend the night sobbing on Guy-Manuel's reluctant shoulder or he could go out to another party. He picks the latter for the sake of his dignity; physical health is ignored because either way he's going to end up with another headache.

So Kavinsky almost crashes the car into a bank and gets a citation and they all go back to Pedro's where Thomas ends up lying on the floor. It's something he's always done whenever he doesn't feel like talking to anybody. Thankfully, everyone seems to understand this well, and no one bothers him. It's almost surreal really; he just watches the fish tank and listens to music streaming in, in fits and starts, from another room. The music gradually wanes, and when it stops completely, he pushes himself up from the carpet and walks in the direction where the music was coming from.

In the studio, scarcely visible among a tangled mass of chords and an array of blinking lights, Xavier is sitting alone. He looks at Thomas and gives him a small smile, then with a few mouse clicks gets music to start streaming from a speaker. " _We are human, after all_ ," it goes, and then is silent.

Thomas isn't sure what to say. He probably looks like a mess, with his hair in disarray and his clothes rumpled and the weight of the world on his shoulders. Inquisitively, Xavier starts the music up again. Thomas remembers all of a sudden that he never said anything to Justice about their remix of the song.

"I meant to thank you," Thomas says, the words sitting flat in the air-conditioned air.

"Me?"

"Oh, I mean for doing the remix. So, well, both of you. Guy-Manuel and I really liked it." He runs a hand through his hair, self-conscious all of a sudden.

"Thank you," says Xavier, and it sounds like he really means it. That's encouraging. Then he cuts off the music. "I should go."

"To where?"

"I…" Sheepish, Xavier scratches the back of his head. "I don't like being in here alone, really. It's better working with someone else." No way, thinks Thomas. I just got a sentence longer than five words out of him. Two, even.

"I know the feeling. It's always better to have Guy-Manuel there to tell me if I've just done something incredibly stupid."

"Where is he now?"

"At home. Since there wasn't going to be any party, he didn't want to stick around."

"Gaspard had to go to the hospital." Xavier grimaces. "A good friend of his has just broken her arm in three places. He's very worried."

"That's horrible." Thomas shifts his weight from one foot to the other and back. "I hope she's all right."

"Me too." Xavier rolls his shoulders. "Sit down. Maybe we can keep each other company instead." Thomas finds a chair and reclines, rocking it backward. He tries in vain to think of something to talk about, but what do you say to someone like Xavier? It's eerily like watching himself or Guy-Manuel from six or seven years ago, and he figures if it were a younger Thomas, whatever it was, he wouldn't want to talk about it. He opens his mouth to say something noncommittal when Xavier, perhaps seeing his discomfort, continues, "What brings you back to Paris?"

"Oh." Thomas has to actually think about this for a second. "Um. Busy P's helping us plan our tour that's going to be next year."

"You're shitting me," says Xavier. "The last time Daft Punk was on tour, I was still in high school."

"Yeah, I guess you were."

"I'll definitely come see you." What Thomas doesn't say here is that Busy P actually suggested getting Justice to join them on the tour. It's still not certain, and he doesn't want to get anyone's hopes up, but the more he hears the more he's interested. "I thought I was too cool for that last time. Now I know that's impossible."

"If anything, you're too cool for it now."

"No way." Xavier shakes his head emphatically. "It's not to say that we want Justice to sound like you or to…. Well, my point is, both Gaspard and I feel we owe you a lot, and that's why it's easier to…. No, 'we owe you a lot' sounds bad, but we think you make great music and we love to dance to it."

"Thank you." He tries to match the real gratitude he could hear in Xavier's voice earlier. He could probably take lessons in sounding sincere from this kid. "Thank you very much."

"You've heard that before, I know—"

"It never gets old."

Xavier is quiet then, looking down at the carpet and swinging his feet. Timidly, he says, "What do you think of Justice? Really, I mean." This isn't the Xavier who was boldly making fun of him just two days before. And Thomas breaks into a grin, for the first time all day.

"I think you make great music and I love to dance to it." Xavier smiles back.

\---

That night he gets the best sleep he has in ages, Tara-Jay waking him up because he's just certain Doc Ock from _Spiderman_ is in the closet notwithstanding. At the crack of dawn he heads down to Busy P's for a quick meeting, after which the Headbangers begin to filter in, throwing an impromptu dance party and filling the house with pumping bass. After someone breaks the fish tank, Pedro and Nadège mutually decide to throw everyone out. (Thomas actually catches a glimpse of a misty-eyed Pedro blowing his nose into a tissue—guess the guy really liked his fish!)

But it's a gorgeous day—much milder than the rest of the summer has been, and they decide to have a picnic. They stop at a corner store where they buy sandwiches and cheese and crackers and a butterfly kite for Tara-Jay, then they make their way, a colorful parade (still wary of driving), down to a local park.

The moment Tara-Jay gets an eyeful of the boundless grassy hills, he lets go a " _J'adore Paris_!" much more emphatic than it's ever been before, and runs a circle in the grass before he starts to put the kite together. Guy-Manuel and Mr. Oizo roll out the blue tie-dyed blanket they've nicked from Busy P's closet, and Uffie immediately throws herself down on it and rolls around, giggling. Tara-Jay thinks this is the most hilarious thing he's ever seen—a grown woman rolling around on the ground? _Ridiculous_!—so he falls over laughing. Luckily for everyone interested in eating, Uffie immediately latches onto him—"Aren't you just the cutest thing? Let me help you with that kite of yours; it's gonna be so pretty," she drawls.

Everyone gets out the sandwiches and sits around the blanket, eating or, in the case of SebastiAn, making aliens out of olives and toothpicks. Thomas flops over onto the grass after he finishes—why not, everyone else is doing it—and looks up at the sky. A weight is starting to lift off his shoulders. Élodie said it was his life. Here he is, living it.

\---

While Uffie and Tara-Jay fly the butterfly kite and all the Headbangers play an intense game of Ultimate Frisbee started by Mr. Oizo, Thomas sits on the blanket and talks to Guy-Manuel. It almost feels like they're teenagers again—Thomas can remember sitting in this very same park, attempting to sit stock-still while Guy-Manuel sketched him and bursting out with some bad joke whenever Guy-Manuel was penciling the most furiously. And they're talking about girls again, just like they used to.

"So she told me it was my life and I should go live it," Thomas is saying. "What's that supposed to mean? That I need to stop letting her walk all over me, or that we're not together anymore?"

"I think it means she doesn't want to be the one taking care of you and she doesn't want to be the one worrying about your mistakes. But what do I know?"

"I love her so much, Guy-Manuel, but sometimes the things she says just don't make sense. I want to make it work. I want it the most of anything." Well, maybe the most of anything. What he thinks he really wants the most of anything is for this moment to go on forever. If he could just stay here under this infinite blue sky, watching everyone enjoy themselves and feeling for once like he's really in Paris, not some mirror-Paris, not some pseudo-Paris…

He sees Gaspard chuck the Frisbee at Xavier, who doubles over in what at first appears to be pain but turns out to be laughter, and the two of them end up in a playful scuffle on the grass.

"They really are so much like us," says Guy-Manuel, following Thomas's eyes. "I think we'll get along with them well."

"I talked to Xavier last night—just by himself, I mean, Gaspard had left. He wasn't as rude on his own. Actually, he seemed more than a little self-conscious."

"That's what friends are for, I guess." Guy-Manuel shrugs, glances up at the sky. With a laugh, he continues, "Is it just me or do we talk about them all the time?"

"I don't know! Sometimes I think it's like the center of gravity of my entire world has shifted. No matter where I go, I run into at least one of them."

"That's not gravity. That's Busy P. That guy's not a manager for nothing. He gets people. He wants us excited about showing them off."

"And that's the worst thing, isn't it? It worked! I _am_ excited!"

"The worst?"

"The best, I guess. It just all feels so…fatal, I don't know. Like I can't help it. Just like falling in love—" He grimaces. "Or out of it."

"If that isn't perverse I don't know what is. You run away from Élodie and towards these kids fresh out of art school." Thomas rolls his eyes.

"I didn't mean like—" But Guy-Manuel isn't finished.

"Are you just that tired of being an adult? You want to be like them, getting drunk and partying, breaking things and wreaking havoc?"

Thomas puts his head in his hands. "I don't know. Aren't they the ones saying 'we are your friends, you'll never be alone'? I guess I just want not to feel alone here." He sees Guy-Manuel start to open his mouth. "I have you! Of course I have you. But those kids are my way into the place this place has become. This used to be my home. Now it's a strange place. But LA is a strange place, too. No matter where I go, I'm a stranger."

"No, you're right. And besides, everyone wants to know them now. They're quickly becoming celebrities, not just local celebrities. It's just like you said about their underwear."

"I said something about their underwear?"

"Never mind!" Guy-Manuel laughs. "But that is what you want, isn't it?"

"Do I always have to know what I want?" And maybe he is acting like a petulant child now, but so what? Guy-Manuel keeps smiling, obviously trying to keep the tone light, but he's hitting deep.

"Well, if you don't you're the last one left who doesn't. I can tell what you want is to prove Élodie right so you can go crawling back to her. And if that just means acting irresponsible, fine. And if that means cheating on her, fine. That's exactly what she wants to hear."

"Who said I was cheating on anybody?" Thomas pulls his knees up to his chest. Wham-bam, there's an idyllic moment ruined. "With anybody! I didn't even say anything about anyone in Justice being—"

"But you're getting obsessed, Thomas."

"Stop _smiling_ at me." Guy-Manuel pinches his lips in and then shakes his head, ending with a serious look on his face.

"You're just so predictable, that's all. You have to remember I've seen you do this every time. You—Thomas."

"Ngh."

"No, and it makes me—it's good to know you're still the Thomas I always knew."

"I want to go home."

"I know."

"And I don't even know where home is. Or if it even exists anymore."

"I know that too."

"So maybe you can leave me alone now and stop reminding me how miserable I am. I kind of liked being, well. I wasn't exactly happy, but content." The sky is still blue and the grass is still green, but it's become garish, Thomas thinks.

"I won't judge you."

"You are judging me—"

"Okay! Forget I said anything! But just, if you wanted to choose to, well, if I suggested you had a, and I mean—look, what I'm saying is if you actually have a thing for that kid, just a stupid little thing that will disappear the moment you stop being mad at Élodie or what _ever_? Well, you wouldn't be in bad taste. That's all."

"Okay…" Thomas starts. He's going to make a cynical comment, but then Guy-Manuel is standing up and patting him on the back. Down in his stomach he feels sick, but he knows he's just been paid a compliment, at least by Guy-Manuel standards. "It doesn't mean I don't still want to go home. Or find some place to be my home."

Guy-Manuel looks around, frowning. "Doesn't everybody?"

The Frisbee game has wound down, its participants getting tired and giving each other half-hearted slaps on the back before walking like zombies in the direction of the picnic blanket. Tara-Jay is clinging to Uffie's leg, his butterfly kite flying a few feet above the spool held in his free hand, and telling her in subdued tones the tragic story of his lost alligator; Uffie, meanwhile, has her fingers intertwined with Feadz's and is smiling at him sleepily, ignoring Tara-Jay almost completely. Mr. Oizo and Kavinsky are involved in a very intense conversation that from what Thomas can pick up appears to be about video games. Xavier is fiddling with SebastiAn's backpack while a distracted SebastiAn talks to Mehdi; Gaspard is trudging along staring at his feet.

Yeah. Doesn't everybody?

\---

That night, Thomas dances. He doesn't care who's watching him—he tells himself that until it's true. Busy P is at the turntables, throwing in everything from Metallica to the Jackson Five. None of it makes a difference to Thomas. He thrashes around more or less rhythmically (generally erring on the side of 'less'). Every once in a while someone grabs him and shouts something at him; something like "HEY YOU'RE THOMAS BANGALTER" or "HEY WATCH IT" or "HEY, WANT TO DANCE?"

Wait, what was that last one? He whips around. Xavier is standing next to him, nodding his head and grinning through his unruly hair. Raising a hand to his mouth, he chews a fingernail inquisitively.

"WHAT?"

"I SAID DO YOU WANT TO DANCE?"

"DID GUY-MANUEL PUT YOU UP TO THIS?"

Somehow Gaspard has appeared on the other side of Thomas, looking confused.

"WHY WOULD GUY-MANUEL DO THAT?" he shouts.

"Never mind," Thomas mumbles. "BUT YOU'RE SERIOUS? YOU WANT TO DANCE WITH ME? PEOPLE WILL BE OKAY WITH THAT?"

"OF COURSE!" shouts Xavier. "THIS IS PARIS!"

So that's Paris, then. Huh.

Thomas has never really tried freakdancing before. Turns out it's not that hard; it just involves a little bit of gyrating when you're sandwiched between two boys who are doing all the work and making ridiculous faces while doing it.

Huh. Paris. How about that?

\---

Sweaty and exhausted, Thomas leans against the wall outside the club and tries to regain his sanity. He keeps coming up with the question, "Who the hell am I?" and sighing, his head in his hands. Thomas, he tells himself, you're a father and a husband and today you have to be a role model. Maybe he should just go pick up Tara-Jay and go back to the hotel.

"Thomas?" Thomas looks up. Busy P is holding one squirming half of Justice by the shirt collar in each hand. "Did you lose these?" Xavier and Gaspard both laugh.

"You can't get rid of us!" says Gaspard.

"We keep coming back!" Xavier adds, and they both burst into laughter again. Busy P rolls his eyes.

"You three don't do anything I wouldn't," he says with a wink. "Now I'm going to go dump ice water over my head. See you later."

Thomas stammers out a "Tara-Jay—" and turns to face the wall.

"What?" says Xavier, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Who's that?"

"My son. My little boy. I'm leaving him to be here. I mean, he's with Nadège, so he's in capable hands, but…I'm leaving him."

"Yes," says Gaspard slowly. "I remember. From the picnic." Thomas turns around and faces him. "Why did you bring him to Paris?"

"My wife asked me to."

"Your—" Xavier leans in toward Gaspard and mumbles something, looking confounded. Gaspard mumbles back. Shaking his head, Xavier continues, "What are you doing flirting with us if you're married? Either you're an idiot or we're just irresistible!"

Thomas isn't sure what to say to that.

"Or she's absurdly nice," says Gaspard.

"Wait! Wait! Who said I was flirting with you? Who said anything at all?" Wringing his hands, Thomas sighs. Maybe it would be better for everyone if he stopped yelling. "Look," he says softly. "My wife and I aren't on the best terms right now. And I've just been doing the best I can to do the right thing, but I don't know what that is. I don't understand why you’re doing this—I thought maybe Guy-Manuel told you to, but you said no. If you could just explain, maybe…."

"We thought you were lonely," Gaspard says with a shrug.

"You keep going off on your own at every party," Xavier adds.

"We know you don't know anyone and…and…"

"And, and we want you to have fun while you're in Paris." Xavier looks up, smiling shyly. "Not to mention, I think you're cute."

"Do you two always finish each other's sentences?" Thomas asks, incredulous. He's also thinking: Ha, ha, Guy-Manuel! I told you! They want to be my friends! (And maybe Xavier wants to be more than that, but he's going to put that thought, and what it entails, out of his mind for the time being.)

"Yes," says Xavier. "We've—"

"Practiced it. We do it to—"

"Show off, but also because sometimes I—"

"Forgets what he's going to say." Gaspard chuckles. "And we are shy."

More and more out of his element every moment, Thomas nods. "You remind me so much of myself and Guy-Manuel when we were younger," he says wistfully.

"We're too beautiful to hide our faces from the world though," Xavier teases, stroking Gaspard's hair.

"We're not hiding anything, we're really robots!" says Thomas, grinning. "Actually I'm wearing a 'human' mask right now!"

"I knew it," says Gaspard in what is a very convincing deadpan until a moment later when he cracks a grin and punches Thomas in the side. Then he goes still, looking like he's concentrating hard. "Hey—I was right!" he says, finally. "They're playing our song!"

" _We are your friends, you'll never be alone again_ ," the shout comes up from the basement. A girl who's been standing outside smoking grins and rushes in, her dress streaming behind her.

"You'll never be alone!" says Gaspard.

"We won't let you!" Xavier throws his arms around Thomas. "Let's take him home with us!" Gaspard squeezes Thomas's shoulders.

"Taxi!" he cries joyfully.

"Taxi?" Thomas says, bewildered and unsure what to do or say. "What do you mean tax—oh."

A taxi pulls up and Gaspard and Xavier push Thomas in. He sits with one at either side, preventing him from making a single move. All he can do is sputter and wave his arms, always to be pushed down with four hands amidst gales of laughter.

"We are so drunk," Gaspard admits, rolling down a window and tossing his cigarette onto the street, to the chagrin of the taxi driver. Xavier responds by blowing the driver a kiss, to which he rolls his eyes and mutters something about how he should have known before picking up _you_ two again. This just makes Xavier and Gaspard laugh more and slap each other high-fives.

"You're frightening me," Thomas squeaks. "I need to get back to my son. I can't just—"

"Don't worry so much!" Gaspard and Xavier chorus. How can he not worry? But what does he always say? Everything is going to be all right.

\---

Thomas dozes off. He wakes up for long enough to recall that someone else gets in the taxi, and again so he can stumble into a small house out in the suburbs and collapse on a couch as someone throws a blanket over him.

He awakes to find Xavier lying with his head on Thomas's chest and softly snoring. Little lights are drifting over Xavier's face, reflected off a disco ball that dangles from the ceiling.

"Um," Thomas says softly, not sure exactly what to do.

"Xavier, babe, you should wake up," Thomas hears Uffie's familiar voice say. "I think you scared him."

Xavier makes a noise like "Bwuh" and rubs his eyes. Taking this opportunity to look around, Thomas sees that several people are crashed on the floor around the room. Uffie, who seems to be the only one awake, is wearing only a T-shirt and boxers and sipping from a bottle of water.

"Where am I?" Thomas asks.

"This is Gaspard's house," says Xavier, yawning, his mouth opening wide like a cat's. Thomas wonders if he's used to waking up on top of people or if his nonchalance is intentional. "And I think he went to bed already. He said there's food in the kitchen, though." He slaps his forehead, as if suddenly remembering something. "Oh, SebastiAn's' girlfriend told me to tell you that Busy P told Gaspard he'd take care of Tara-Jay, who fell asleep something like three hours ago—or three hours before she told me, in any case—and I think she said he had an alligator? I'm not sure what—"

"They found Tara-Jay's alligator?" Thomas sits bolt upright. This is the first good news he's heard in days. "Did Busy P say where it was?"

"Wait, Tara-Jay has an _alligator_?" Xavier's eyes go wide. "And it got _lost_?"

"No, no, no! It's a stuffed alligator. We bought it for him in the airport in LA, and it's his favorite thing…."

"They found the alligator! Cheers!" Uffie raises her water bottle. "Tara-Jay told me all about him at the picnic the other day. We think," she whispers, a hand on one side of her mouth, "he was jealous of us partying all the time and snuck off to party on his own."

"You're a good dad, Thomas," Xavier says.

"Thank you." He smiles weakly. "I—I'm just wondering why you brought me here. I guess I thought—well, I don't know what I thought. I'm glad you don't just think of me as—well. I mean." He shakes his head. "I swear the words were all there in my mind."

"I know," says Xavier. "But I think you ask too many questions."

And that's when Xavier kisses him.

\---

Thomas is surprised by how much he likes that, by how quickly he's able to rationalize it. He finds himself with his hand wrapped around the back of Xavier's head, kissing him back. Xavier's cold fingers are at his waist. When he pulls away, Xavier starts tugging on Thomas's ear with his teeth, which is weird, but not exactly unwelcome.

"That's hot," says Uffie, propping her feet up on the back of a chair while she sucks the last drops of water from her plastic bottle. It vaguely registers with Thomas that he should be bothered by the fact that she's watching them, but somehow he isn't. Maybe it's just because it's so late. The night does funny things like that.

Or maybe that's just feeling like a part of something.

When Xavier's hands slip up under Thomas's shirt and he wriggles into the space between Thomas's legs, Uffie winks, nods and stands up. "I'll leave you two alone," she says and begins to walk toward the door. Swinging around the frame, she repeats Pedro's sentiment of "Don't do anything I wouldn't." And Thomas is fine with that, because he gets the feeling it doesn't cross very much off the list.

\---

Once again Thomas wakes up with Xavier curled up against him, though this time they're on the floor and Xavier is sans shirt. It's broad daylight outside the little living room, but most of the people in it are still very much asleep. Thomas blinks to make sure he hasn't just imagined this all and that it won't slowly fade away like an afterimage.

It doesn't, of course. Xavier stirs and mutters something about breakfast, then stretches in his sleep, socking Thomas in the jaw in the process. Inadvertently, Thomas makes a noise of protest, and it wakes Xavier up.

"Good morning," he slurs, then makes a face that shows he notices Thomas's peeved expression. "Did I kick you?" Thomas rubs the side of his chin. " _Punch_ you? In the face? I'm sorry, it's like…" He yawns. "This one time, Gaspard said I—but never mind!" He smiles cheekily. "I can't tell you everything."

"This is Paris," says Thomas, rolling his eyes. "You said this is Paris, and that was all it took."

"Did I? I say a lot of things when I'm drunk."

"So that's it, then? You were drunk?" Well, Thomas knows he was drunk, but it's still not worth this passive dismissal.

"Oh, don't be such a woman—I'm sorry, I know that's a stereotype, but it's true." Xavier rolls onto his back, wriggling his toes in the air. "Always saying, oh, you were drunk, it doesn't mean anything to you—when nothing means anything more or less than anything else! I live from one moment to the next and instead of wondering why things happened some way in the past, I wonder what's going to happen next."

"Don't get all philosophical on me in the morning," Thomas says, breaking out into a smile. Maybe Xavier is right; maybe he was right last night with his _don't worry so much_! "I have a headache the size of Germany and I haven't had my coffee yet."

"Don't worry, there's always coffee here!" Xavier looks left and right. "Coffee sounds good, actually. I'll get you some, too, no worries. Oh—I hope you don't mind it black, because Gaspard never has any cream. He always gives it to the cat." And so, chattering away and stepping on various protesting people, he makes his way to the kitchen.

\---

At about 1:30 PM everyone is finally awake and a couple Thomas doesn't recognize are playing a lilting duet on Gaspard's chipped upright piano. SebastiAn and his girlfriend collaborate to cook some strangely shaped pancakes, and Uffie and Xavier delight themselves in making smiley faces on them with chocolate chips. Somehow Feadz has gotten his hands on a Polaroid camera and has been shooting pictures.

"I'll send these home to my mother," he says, laughing. "Look how wholesome we are! Ed Banger breakfast!" Uffie takes this opportunity to blow a handful of flour at him, causing Gaspard to yell at her until she wets a dishtowel and starts wiping the floor.

"Did you know my cat used to be black?" he chides, picking up a floury cat from behind a stack of magazines. He smirks, dusting the cat's head with his free hand. "She's also become alcoholic. You've all been a bad influence."

"Last time you said she was a smoker," says Uffie, pointing a mixing spoon at him accusatorially. "I think you're lying." She sticks out her tongue.

"She's an alcoholic and a chain smoker!" Gaspard insists. "If I didn't have to take her to rehab meetings every day, we would have already finished the album by now!" The cat squirms until Gaspard drops her and scratches her behind the ears before she runs off.

"So is this what mornings are always like here?" Thomas asks Xavier when he walks past on the way to the sink.

"Mostly Gaspard hates when people sleep in his house," says Xavier with a grin. "He has a rule that if we don't cook breakfast, he'll throw us out, so we always do something elaborate and ridiculous. And everyone loves smiley pancakes!"

"They do smell good," Thomas admits. "And I haven't eaten in almost an entire day."

"Well, more for you then." Xavier turns back around to the stove and pours an especially large pancake, on which he makes a capital T with chocolate chips. "This is Thomas's pancake, so don't eat it!"

"You all spoil me so much," Thomas says to Gaspard once the pancakes have been served and he's pouring syrup on his.

"Look who's talking!" says Gaspard. "You have the IHOP every few blocks in California. We know! We ate breakfast at a different one almost every day last time we were in America!"

"I love pancakes," Uffie says through a mouthful. "I haven't had this kind of breakfast since I was last in Miami. This is just like being at home!"

"We try to make it feel like home for everybody," says Gaspard, shrugging, as he deposits a plate of sweet rolls on the table.

Of course!

That's it!

Maybe Thomas should have realized ages ago. Home, he decides, is wherever you are, as long as you want to be there. And right now he can't think of anywhere he'd rather be.

\---

The hotel TV plays cartoons in the background while Thomas sleeps on and off, occasionally interrupted by Tara-Jay chatting at him.

(Tara-Jay is starting to think his Daddy is really silly. First he _apologizes_ for letting Tara-Jay have a sleepover at Mister Pedro's house, even though Tara-Jay got to stay up two hours past his bedtime, and then he _sleeps_ in the _daytime_! It's just plain ridiculous. At the rate things are going, he's surprised the sky is still blue and dogs still go 'woof'.)

"Daddy look what I've got for my alligator! It's an Ed Banger Records T-shirt and that's the company Mister Pedro works for." (Not quite, Thomas thinks, but close enough.) "Also he has a name now, his name is Erol Alligator and his job is to be a DJ. He plays music at parties and everyone dances!"

"That's very funny, but Daddy is trying to sleep." Thomas rolls over and pulls the blankets over his head. A few minutes later:

"But I want to tell you all about Erol Alligator's adventures! Two nights ago, he went out to dinner with his friends, and he had a ham sandwich, because you know alligators eat meat, and then he made a song on his computer, and then he went to a disco, and then…"

\---

It continues mostly like this until evening, when they have a completely sane and ordinary dinner with Busy P's family. And from there on, things slowly begin to settle back into place. The next three days are mostly spent in and out of meetings and phone calls, not to mention the toy store for purposes of keeping Tara-Jay busy. As it always is with the Headbangers around, life still has its flashes of color (literally, in the case of the day when Thomas walks in to find Busy P's living room painted bright green—and with a new fish tank sitting proudly on the center table). But more or less, Thomas is just doing what he came for.

The night before he leaves, Busy P blindfolds him and Guy-Manuel and makes them sit in the van. "We're staging an abduction," he says. "Remain calm!"

And he trusts Busy P. So he does remain calm, but he plays along, pretending to struggle as if he's tied up, which he isn't—he's perfectly capable of opening the door and hopping out at any moment, especially considering how slow traffic is. He just can't see, is all.

The van stops and then they're being led somewhere very loud and crowded and Busy P is repeatedly telling people not to say a word. A door is unlocked before them and they walk through, hearing people around complain about them getting special treatment.

"What club do you think this is?" Guy-Manuel asks him.

"It mi—"

"Think fast!" says Busy P, before he rips off their blindfolds. Justice are setting up—Gaspard is on the floor looking for somewhere to plug in their light-up cross—but it's otherwise dark, quiet, and empty.

"Technical difficulties," says Xavier, scratching the back of his head. "We just need a moment to—oh!"

The room lights up with the glow from the cross. Across the table is a banner reading _Good luck Daft Punk_! in So-Me's unmistakable cursive bubble letters.

"I actually had a little something done up, myself," says Busy P as Thomas and Guy-Manuel exchange huge grins and sort of beam each other thoughts with their eyes: this is amazing, I can't believe this, those guys are too sweet/big losers/etc. Busy P lifts his shirt to show writing on his chest, also by So-Me: _And good luck Justice_!

"What do you mean, good luck Justice?" says Gaspard, looking up confusedly from under the table. Thomas and Guy-Manuel look at each other knowingly, because now, just for a brief second, they know something Xavier and Gaspard don't.

"We're adopting you!" says Thomas.

"Yes! You can call me Mommy now," says Guy-Manuel. "No, I mean, we're asking you to join us on tour, and what I really mean is we're telling you that you are joining us on tour."

The expressions on Xavier's and Gaspard's faces are extremely amusing to watch as they shift back and forth like the pictures in pull-tab books.

"I…" Xavier rolls his tongue around his mouth. "I like how the, uh, the cross is perfectly centered between your nipples," he says at last.

"Thank you," says Busy P.

"And, um." He and Gaspard look at each other.

"Thanks," they both say, and smile. "Thanks very much." There is another pause as everyone smiles at each other.

"Ha-ha," says Xavier, softly. "Nipples."

\---

"Do you think you could do me a favor?" says Thomas after Busy P tells them it's five minutes till doors.

"Absolutely!" says Xavier. "Well, as long as you brought condoms." Gaspard hits him in the arm.

"What do you need?" he asks, rolling his eyes at Xavier.

"I was just wondering if you could play a song for me before the doors open—I think it's Waters of Nazareth, the one that goes—" He makes an attempt at the melody.

"Yes, that's Waters of Nazareth," says Xavier, fiddling with a dial. "We can do that. Any special reason?"

"Well, this is going to sound stupid, but my wife really likes it." He reaches into his pocket for his phone. "And I thought maybe if I played it for her, she'd be glad I was thinking of her. You know."

"That's so sweet," says Gaspard. "Although it's funny. 'Your song' is one of our songs? It's not even really a love song. We have written a love song, though; haven't we, Xavier?"

"Yeeees, but you can't hear it yet, Thomas Bangalter." He sticks out his tongue before cuing up the beginning of Waters of Nazareth. Thomas dials Élodie's number, finding his hand shakier than he expected.

"Thomas?" he hears her voice, before he even has time to speak. He hopes it's not just in his imagination that she sounds as nervous as he feels. "Oh, God, Thomas, is that you? Please say something."

"Y-yes, it's me…I don't know if you're still mad at me but I thought you might want to hear Justice playing their song," he says in one breath. "I—"

"Oh, Thomas, you're too good." She sounds a little breathless. "I was so scared to call you, because I—I know I was a bitch. I shouldn't have flown off the handle. And I shouldn't have—I shouldn't have done—I did some stupid things, Thomas, I thought you were never going to talk to me again. I told you to just leave and I thought—I was afraid you wouldn't look back."

"I did some stupid things too," he admits. "We've both been acting like a couple of kids, I guess. And sometimes…sometimes it seems like we're sort of…like there's only something small holding this together—"

"No! Don't say that."

"You're not letting me finish." He chews on his bottom lip. "Whatever it is, that small, stupid thing, that thing that sometimes I think is on the verge of going to shit every moment—it's good, whatever it is it's _good_."

"You…you said Justice were playing their song," Élodie says, her voice sounding too high, like it's on the verge of breaking.

"Yeah. The one you love." Thomas lifts up the phone so she can hear clearly for a few seconds. He closes his eyes, feeling the bass vibrate in his shoes. Then he puts the phone back to his ear. "Isn't that it?"

And Élodie cries.

\---

When the doors open, it's a virtual flood of humanity, and within mere seconds there are bodies pressed against Thomas in every direction. He finds himself dancing almost immediately, turning to Guy-Manuel and shouting "I AM THE SINGLE HAPPIEST MAN IN THE UNIVERSE!" Guy-Manuel just laughs at him, but what does he know?

So Thomas Bangalter's first act as single happiest man in the universe is to throw his throat out of whack shouting along to We Are Your Friends, and his second act is to attempt to dance with Guy-Manuel, who keeps laughing and moving away. His third, fourth, and fifth acts involve the imbibing of alcohol and the doing of dances that are probably ridiculous except he isn't really paying attention. And under the flashing neon lights, he gets down with almost every single Ed Banger kid he can think of. Justice get called back for an encore and start playing first the B-52's and then Ozzy Osborne. For the latter, the dance floor turns temporarily into a huge mosh pit, leaving everyone sweating and exhausted and embracing as the floor slowly clears and everyone starts to go home.

This, as it turns out, is Paris Paris.

\---

When Thomas finally gets back to the hotel at something like 2:30, he calls Élodie again and they have a long talk in hushed tones while Tara-Jay sleeps. And so Thomas ends up boarding the plane back to LA with only about two hours of sleep under his belt, but that's okay, because everything is, in fact, going to be all right.


End file.
